How did human beings come to exist on Earth? Did we evolve from lower life forms, or were we created by some divine force? Or could it be that we are the result of a disheartening decline—a degeneration from higher forms of life? And if some force did indeed create us, did it do so here, or were we mysteriously transplanted to Earth from somewhere else? For each of these possibilities, there is no irrefutable proof.
My perspective on anthropogenesis is inspired by the works of Carlos Castaneda. In that spirit, I find the idea compelling that the first heralds of the human species—or species, plural—arrived here from another reality, whether by their own volition or through the agency of some demiurgic, anthropogenic force. This unnamed force may, in some way, be connected to the primordial source of life, which we perceive and conceptualize as the Sun.
Yet the myths of many cultures speak of a chthonic origin of humankind. Allegedly, people, like metals, were formed and matured in the womb of the Earth, just as each individual develops within the womb of their mother. Hence the parallel between Earth and Mother—the concept of “Mother Earth.” The mother who gives birth to us is the "little mother," while the one who gives birth to all beings is the "great mother." Consequently, according to myth, the first humans emerged onto the surface from hollow spaces or openings in the Earth, most often from caves, and accordingly, upon death, souls return there.
According to chthonic theory, the Earth is not only the source of the material body but also the origin of souls. The environment we define as "Earth"—its existence, characteristics, and form—rests on firm beliefs, even empirical evidence of sorts. But what do we truly know about the real nature of the ground we stand upon?
All our knowledge arises from the properties of energetic fibers perceived by our assemblage points, which we code and shape into impressions that become shared perceptions across nearly all human beings. The beginning of human life in this reality unfolded in an almost ideal state, as Earth’s conditions supported a high level of human consciousness. Then came the obscuration—a sweeping event that radically transformed reality. It was at this point that the Moon appeared, marking the end of what we might, from today’s perspective, call an idyllic era.
Of course, the Moon itself is not to blame for the fall or narrowing of human consciousness; rather, its appearance is the effect of a deeper cause. The Moon is not a cause, but the expression of a consequence. And I don’t mean that some mysterious force—or mere inertia—dragged the Moon closer to Earth. Instead, that celestial body appeared suddenly where it now is, in much the same way our human ancestors appeared. Those ancestors weren’t even human in the way we understand ourselves now—humanity has since changed form, not through evolution but due to altered conditions of existence.
To grasp this, we must reconsider today's common assumptions about humanity’s place in the universe and nature as a whole. It's not surprising that many, when contemplating this topic, turn to ideas of parallel universes or extraterrestrial origins—where humans came to Earth from a distant planet, aided by advanced aliens or some superior, now-forgotten technology. This is so typical of modern thinking.
These notions—parallel realities, alien origins, or extraterrestrial interference in human development—are products of a linear, materialist, and rationalist mindset. In other words, they are the worldview of an un-magical consciousness. A magical worldview examines causality through a different lens, attributing cause and effect to magical agents, rather than those identified by theology or modern science.
We will more easily discern where we came from once we understand where we are now and what kind of reality we are immersed in. Castaneda’s teacher, Don Juan, spoke of this as a mysterious world and described people as mysterious beings. He didn’t mean by this our small secrets or whims, or merely what we do. He was referring to our energetic nature.
Looking to other systems—say, the Indian chakra model or Chinese acupuncture meridians—we encounter a fundamentally different, even mysterious, structure of the human being. Even though we cling to the fixed and precise ideas our consciousness has established as facts—investing energy into their materialization (which in itself is an unparalleled magical act)—there are moments that reveal the fluidity of this world. In truth, we are not "on planet Earth," but in a reality that the awareness of countless generations has defined and magically reinforced as "Earth."
Everything is a matter of perception. Human consciousness, over generations, has shaped a reality symbolized as “planet Earth.” Reality itself is not a “planet,” nor is it “Earth,” and least of all is it a fixed “reality.” What is truly beyond question—and the greatest mystery—is consciousness itself. Consciousness weaves reality, translating the formless into stable shapes, turning what seems like chaotic energy into an intelligible order.
Of course, not only human consciousness participates in this. There are other, profoundly different forms of consciousness, all interconnected in a vast network of energetic threads stretching into infinity. This network has shaped our known world in the form we perceive it—and likely much more of which we remain unaware.
The Earth we walk upon, the celestial bodies, the lights in the sky, the whole cosmos—is and isn’t an illusion. Some might argue that science, through instruments, has confirmed the objectivity of reality and measured the vastness of the universe and the great distances between stars. That may be true, but it overlooks the fact that all those instruments were crafted by human consciousness. So how could they function in any way other than in alignment with the very consciousness that made them?
If we build a clock, it will tell time—that's its purpose. The same goes for a telescope. It will do just that and nothing more. A clock can’t let us travel through or alter time, just as a telescope can’t teleport us to the spot it’s aimed at. Technology is the expression of one form of consciousness. A different kind of consciousness would create a different kind of technology.
Space and time, form and attention—all are determined by the state of consciousness. Everything we are—or have defined ourselves to be—and all that surrounds us, is the manifestation of shaped consciousness, enabled by a collective agreement among the whole of humankind. When and how that agreement was achieved, I can only speculate. I would say our consciousnesses vibrate at the same frequency. That frequency sustains the universe we know and even enables the emergence of experiences and knowledge we have yet to encounter. Should that frequency vanish, everything would dissolve into formlessness.
A change in that frequency would radically alter our world and ourselves. We might no longer find ourselves on a “planet called Earth” orbiting a “Sun” in an endless cosmos, and we might not even remain “human beings”—at least not in the sense we understand now. That frequency is both our shield and our cage. The essence of freedom lies in stepping out of that cage—and surviving. This can be done, not only individually, but collectively. Yet, as long as this grand consensus about reality’s frequency holds, such liberation will likely remain a rare occurrence—reserved for exceptional individuals or small groups, rather than for humanity at large.
